Taken by Two(9)

By: Sam J. D. Hunt

“Penny—I assure you that Henry Joseph Harrington, bartender of five years, who lives at 2344 Desert Crest in Boulder City, Nevada isn’t going to save you. No one cares, no one is looking for you.”

I began to sob—I knew he was right. I had few friends and I’d burned through my family fairly fast after the calming presence of my mother was gone. My father tried—he loved me in his own way—but his business and new wife were his priorities, and I was left to my own devices.

I hated the mean King Rex Renton at that moment. Despite my glare, his deep voice began to speak again. “So, Princess, I have a business matter I have to attend to. I’ll be gone for a bit, and I’ve commanded Nate to not see you until I return. Maria will take good care of you—if you behave. Give her trouble, and I’ve given her permission to dump you into the croc pit. Are we clear?”

“Yeah,” I answered through my sniffles.

“Excuse me?” He stood and walked in front of me, his dark presence hovering over me, his massive fists balled in a threat.

“Yes, sir,” I sniffled.


“What did you inject me with yesterday?” I asked softly.

“Just something to ensure you behave, that’s all.” His large index finger pointed an inch from my face, “I don’t have the time or the energy for complications, Penny. Not even for Nate.” He left the room, the harsh metallic click of the lock on the other side reminding me of how helpless I was.

By lunchtime, my stomach was growling. A dark haired woman finally opened the door with a nod. She set down a tray covered in linen cloth, and in slow, trained English asked, “Do you need anything, Miss?”

I nodded. “I need to leave.”

“I cannot,” she said as she left.

I spent the next two days alone in the artificially cooled room. I was fed, but Maria spoke very little English. After dinner the second evening, I lay in a heap on the plush carpeted floor, sobbing and feeling sorry for myself. I was jolted from my self-indulgent cry by the opening of my bedroom door. I expected to see the dark-haired maid, but instead my heart began to pound when I recognized the tall, lean frame of Nate as he slid the door closed behind him, locking it from the inside with a key that he placed in the pocket of his slim jeans.

“Penny,” he cooed as he knelt down beside me. “Don’t cry, I’m so sorry.”

He held me tight, rocking me in his arms. “You left me,” I wailed.

“Rex said I couldn’t see you until he returned. I tried, but I missed you so damn much.” He leaned in and kissed me, his warm lips caressing mine.

“I tried,” he purred, wrapping my limbs around his. “I meant to stay away until Rex got home, but I’m drawn to you. I-I’ve never felt like this about a woman before.”

My lips found his again, silencing his explanations, his apology. At that moment, my yearning wasn’t for escape; it was for him. My tongue caressed his, the need flowing from me as he unbuttoned my shirt. “You’re so beautiful,” he moaned as his lips dipped down to kiss the very top of the lace of my bra. My full breasts heaved over the top of the cups—whoever owned this exquisite bra was smaller breasted than me. His eager fingers pulled the lace aside, the ivory flesh flowing over the strained fabric.

His full lips wrapped around my sensitive pink nipple, his desperate suction so intense I struggled to bear it. “Nate,” I begged, clawing at the fly of his jeans. He released the aroused nipple and stood, reaching out a hand to pull me up and toward the bed. We fell together against the pillows, struggling to free one another of the oppressive clothing that separated us.

As his gloriously swollen cock burst free of his jeans, I wrapped my lips around it, drawing hard as he writhed against the sheets. “Pen, wait, not so fast…” I stroked his firm, swollen balls with my index finger, slowing my rhythm on his long shaft as he pulled at me. He managed to flip me over, despite my pout at being parted from his hardness.

“I need to taste you first…”

My tongue was salty from the liquid that slowly seeped from him as he dipped his warm tongue into me—savoring and worshipping me in the most intimate way he could. A long finger slid into my tightness as he lapped at me, so gently I yearned for more. My hips rose as my fingers combed through his thick hair—pressing him into me. His tongue picked up speed as I pushed against his mouth—silently begging him for more contact. “You are so sweet,” he purred against my throbbing sex. When he flicked at my clit with the very tip of his tongue, his fingertip pressing against the sponginess of my swollen G-spot, I struggled to stay quiet as my orgasm rocked me. Nate rode it out, not letting go despite my efforts to shake him loose. He greedily held on to sip every last drop of sweetness from me before rising to take me in his arms.

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